Dead as a Door Nail
by Midnight's-creature
Summary: Araya, a very twisted Witch, lives in a very post-modern world, her only escape was her friend Mia, a muggle born prostitute. When one day she happens upon two Slytherin's, her life is turned upside down. Very Mature Content.


Araya looked upon the ballroom with a droll expression on her beautiful face. She sat at the head of a long, epensively dressed table, covered in Egyption cotton, long, white candles and glittering plates and utensils. Decorating the sides of the table, were people as hallow and non-life-like as statues, engaging in trivial conversation and sipping bubbly champagne feircely, in an attempt to lighten their moods and to make the night go as smoothly as the drinks they usherd down their throat. The room was light but stiff, as the older women titterd in the corner next to the refreshment table, gossiping like the old crones they were bound to become while men sipped brandi and smoked their cigars on the balcony behind her, the smell of tabacco was sharp with toxins.

The young women didn't blame the men for smoking enlarged cigarettes -- may the toxins end their pitiful lives sooner -- or for taking refuge on the balcony to escape the wives they bought. At least, she thought, if anything went wrong or they were made a fool of, they had a perch to jump off of to put them out of their misery. She didn't doubt the fall would break their necks, sufficiently ending the person in question's life and perhaps ending this atrocious excuse of a dinner party before the loons insisted the orcestra play the waltz or something twice as distastful like, she cringed, the fox trot.

It was year two thousand in the wizarding world, though in this particular part of town, the year didn't matter for everything was nearly as old styled as it was back in the eighteen hundreds, when they would lock the crazies in asylums and discover new medical 'miracles' while operating on their pain wracked bodies. _Now those was good times_, she thought sarcasticaly, spilling the contents of her whiskey into a wine glass from beneath the table, _what was better then operating on some poor, defenseless women who was no crazier then the people who locked her up? _The average women in the asilems probably wanted nothing more then to climb out of the deep, dark depression man had left them in, only to end up with a needle sticking out of her neck in a room with four white walls. Yes; killing off those trouble makers must have been a good time, indeed.

Currently Araya was looking down at her painted finger nails dreamily, which were painted red despite her mother's orders. Red was considered a scandalizing color. The young Temptress had chosen that color over all others simply because of what it represented in her mind. Inwardly she was no mindless drone that followed orders and refused to be seen as such, and so, she had painted her nails red to represent sin and tainted goods. She would be damned before she allowed the purity of her white evening dress to speak volumes of lies. She was no angel blessed child sent from above to grace one of the most talked about and wealthiest family's in London. No. She was something more like a plague: something dark and unnatural hidden behind several guises of pretty ribbon.

She sighed, lifting her violet eyes upwards in time to meet Mia's brown ones. "You alright?" She asked, looking around the table where their peers sat, looking up from their in depth conversation about the balls they are to attend and the dresses they were to wear. Not many people botherd to ask Araya the age old question that Mia just had. In fact, not many people Araya's age wanted much of anything to do with her. She was beautiful, intellectual and completely untouchable.

But Mia wasn't like all the guest who were here simply because their parents bought them entry. Mia was Araya's special guest, and was like Araya in a way. Her thoughts were unique, her actions different.

She was deemed unfit by many, and a disgrace by more. Her parents were addict muggles, who lived in a very poor neighborhood in London, making money the only ways they could. It was rumored her father was a pimp, and her mother one of his prostitutes, and so it wasn't a surprise Mia knew the ways of the streets very well, and aided Araya in the ways of surviving with out letting unimportant details get in the way of what you wanted or who you were. She was beautiful in a wild way, with untamed curly brown hair and generous curves -- curves that Araya was well familiar with -- she also had blazing amber eyes that always held a wicket glint to them, making her look like she was up to something, when usualy she was.

Tonight the Street Child was wearing an expensive cream colourd dress with a light green over coat; both with a daring neck line that made all those who laid eyes on her do a double take. It was Araya's dress but they added a few modifications to it before Mia would agree to it. Oh what scandal! Araya's mother was bound to task for it later.

The blonde didn't respond, but instead glared at her peers who quickly looked away or blanched. True, Araya may have been capable of tolerating them if she wanted to, but she never. The words 'Guilty by association' always came to mind when she so much as considered calling on one of the girls who could ease her bordom. Yes, she would only see them as a form of petty entertainment but she didn't need entertainment as much as others; her thoughts were enough to keep her going and content for quite some time.

Mia leaned toward the beautiful girl, one of her shapely eyebrows raising as she whispered in a low, seductive voice, "I have some fun lined up for us for, say, four; think you can get away from the drones before then?" She glanced around the room, her pretty face contorting into a sneer as she took in the guests. She hated attending get together' such as these; just looking at the fake women made her gut clench. They were all just so...pathetic: groveling to meet their men's needs, bending backwards to produce a mill of offspring and then working as hard as humanly possible to still be pleasant company? Mia seen it as a draining waste of time and was happy she wasn't as 'financialy sucure' as Araya least her life be this dull as well.

Nodding, Araya muttered a glamour under her breath then brought her champagne flute up from beneath the table, having changed the red liquid in her glass into a light yellow that matched the drinks being served. She was on her third glass of liquor and planned to keep the drinks coming. "Cheers," she said with a roll of her eyes, holding her glass up. Mia did the same, smirking. Despite the fact that Araya wasn't aloud to attend any magical schooling like the rest of her peers, she knew the basics of magic and offton paid random people to teach her more, much to her parents distaste.

"Cheers."

They clinked their glasses together and downed their drinks, Mia rasping at the unfamiliarness of the whiskey plashed into her mouth and down her esophagus, blinking back the water in her eyes as the other occupents at the table gave each other knowing smirks; Mia was nothing but a street rat who happend upon Araya like a mouse did cheese. They beleived that Mia's kind searched out their own, in an attempt to reap the benefits of a friendly association of an upper class citizen. Mia wouldn't very well tell them differently -- she cared very little about what they thought -- and she knew deep down in her heart that she was in love with the seventeen year old sitting at the head of the table and would be untill the day that she died.

The night continued with little to no excitement. Mrs. Valentine, Araya's mother, ofton pranced back and fourth between the groups of people, trying to be the hostest that her daughter was not. She ofton brought possible suitors to the table where the morbid blonde sat, and there she dismissed them after little more then a glance. The other girls, apart from Mia, sat seething in their chairs, unable to understand how the cold and seemingly heartless girl manedge to get so many people looking to court her at once.

As far as Araya was concerned, they could have every single man in the room. She knew the look in the men's eyes when they appraised her from afar. They looked at her like she was extremely rare, wild game, and they were just waiting for the chance to tame and control her before claiming her with a bullet and showing her off in their homes as a trophy wife. She repressed a shuddered; she'd be damned before she allowed some man like her egotistical father claim her hand in marriage. She'd sooner sever her own ring finger off before she allowed herself to be walked down an isle in a wedding gown.

Araya moved her white hair to the side as she turned in her chair, looking towards the balcony. From where she was sitting she could only see a black landscape beyond the balcony, devoid of any trivial things that comforted, like light. She stood, swaying lightly, and walked towards the group of younger men who were conversing amongst themselves. Their hunting eyes landed upon the girl walking towards them and they gave her polite, stiff nods that caused her eyes to roll. Men like these were the ones that she worked so hard to repel but they came to her like she was honey and them, the flies: really big, randy flies. "Evening, Gentlemen," she said icily, shouldering past one to look out at the landscape.

She frowned.

There was no darkness. She could see carriages below and could hear the drivers talking. She could see lights from lamps and smell chimney smoke. No. This deffiedently was not darkness, it was an imitation, a cheap imitation of something shallow souls feared, yet truly never knew. Araya neither feared it nor knew it, but she would find it, even if it meant losing the coil that kept her in her mortal being.

"If I may be so bold," a man said from beside her, turning his back on the souls he deemed his friends to rest his elbows on the balcony, cigarette in one hand and tumbler of whiskey in the other.

Araya looked up at the sun kissed blonde, an amused eyebrow raised, "You may be so bold; you needn't ask my permission," she said with some cheek, cutting her eyes back towards the dim curtain of night. She knew the man speaking with her, his name was Alexander Coish, though she ofton made a show of forgetting his name to watch his embarressment. His father was one of 's good friends and a very wealthy doctor with ties to the Queen herself.

"If that'd be the case then I should say you look beautiful with out feeling as though I am being untoward, exspecialy when there are clearly many men here who wish to say the same."

"How very untoward," she said with obvious sarcasm. Yes, paying a women a due compliment was truely being untoward. Her eyes cut downwards, "Do you think, , that you would survive a fall such as this?"

He looked down and let out a low whistle, appraising the height as he attempted to humor Araya's curiousity. "No, I would imagain that I'd be a splatter on the ground."

"Then do you believe you would feel your bones crush and splinter up threw your body? Do you think you would see your blood as it splashed upwards? Or have time to scream?" She was facing him now, her violet eyes dancing as she took a step forward. He looked down at her, transfixed and disturbed by the beautiful girls questioning. Questions such as these were not tolerated in sophisticated company, but this was the first time Araya asked anything of the man and he was eager to see where he could take this. "I think you would," she said slowly, "Humans have such a hard time dealing with their own mortality that they can't even dream about it. I think that you would be too scared to die instantly and instead would take an unneeded moment to register everthing that was happening, resulting in a very painful, yet sudden death." She smirked at the uncomfortable expression on his face and then turned, walking away, her hips swaying inticingly to . She was an odd duckling, that was for sure, but he'd still like to have a tumble with her. Pitty her parents were so old fashioned; they were dead set about Araya dating, attending school, or even spending much time around males. If you wanted Araya, you were exspected to court her like everybody else.

Mr and Mrs. Valintine were two of the oldest wizarding citizens left around, kept young only by the Philosopher Stone, and because of their age, they raised Araya the way they grew up. They believed the new aged Wizarding world was too lenient. Araya believed that she would like to kill them one day.

Yes, Araya would know true darkness.

She stepped back into the bright space of the ballroom, her eyes falling on the Senator's wife, . was a vicious hair brain, every bone in her body tainted by vanity. She was very thin and barreled chested, despite her heart being perhaps the size of a very small pea, with long brown hair always pulled up into a severe bun at the top of her head. Her lips were a stiff strait line, and cheek bones high, lending her an outrageously dangerous look, and despite her clear distaste for nearly everything and every one, she seemed to have a soft spot located somewhere in her bone marrow for Araya.

Araya tugged downwards on her corset, having refused to wear a petticoat above it, and straitened, crossing the all-too-bright ballroom floor in quick easy strides. "," she said with a small smile, holding the hem of her dress as she curtsied, earning a scowl from the older women who scoffed her feet. "None of that," she said in her clipped tone, closing her fan swiftly, "Not while your mother _isn't _looking." She looked about the dance floor to find -- who was found scurrying about in a vain attempt to make even the slightest imperfection perfect. "She's going to stress herself into conniptions, you know," she added in a whisper for only Araya to hear, still watching her mother flutter from one end of the room to the other, "When I throw a get together, it's truely my house elfs throwing it -- I have little to nothing to do with the details."

"I shall have to have a word with the help," Araya said, clearly amused with 's admittance. Admitting such a thing was nearly suicide when said to the wrong people, luckily, Araya cared very little about who decorated 's house for her and why they did it.

The old bat fused with her gloves for a moment, her bony fingers trailing along the length before she gave up with a exaggerated sigh. Araya could see nothing wrong with the pale gloves that extended up to her elbow, but made no advancment to point this out. "Your father has mentioned that you are to make your debut this coming May: I shall wish to sponsor you, you know," she raised a thick eyebrow at the girl, tipping a glass flute of champagne towards her lips. "And earlier the week there shall be a party in your honor. Of course, this is only if your parents see me as a fit sponser."

Araya fought back a snide comment before it could slip out. Petty women, , knowing full well her parents would be more then happy with her patronage, but still fishing for compliments. The nerve! "I should believe they would be honored," Araya said, excluding herself from the honor. She found no great pride in knowing the older women wanted to drown her in social gatherings...there was a thought -- Araya was quick to note that she would _rather_ drown then to feel any dept towards her but in order to come into her inheritance she must make her debut: dead grandfather's orders.

The night continued, Araya excusing herself politely from 's company when the other women made their way forward, hoping, perhaps, that they would have some juicy gossip to share the next morning juring tea. They all knew Araya was a bit of a odd girl. "Rude," one women huffed as Araya turned her back, decending with out a word.

"I'll hear nothing of it," the chided. "Araya is a of a good sort with a good head upon her shoulders.

A good head, indeed.

When Araya and Mia managed to steal a few moments together it was in the fitting room where Araya instantly sent the maids away with a flick of her hand. "I feel as though I may die!" Mia said dramatically, throwing herself onto a cushioned chair, placing limp wrist onto her forehead, "Honestly, Luv', I care for you too much to allow you to suffer this torment all night. Shall I call for the carriage while you tell your parents you have fallen ill?"

"Oh, Mia, really." She gently chided, sitting upon the arm of the chair, "I am quite used to wasting my evenings in polite conversation, drinking weak tea and wishing I had a pin to impale my skull with, mind you; it is how I was raised," she sniffed, settling herself more comftably. She placed one arm over the chair and began to play with Mia's soft curls, enjoying the feel of the velvety strands slipping between her fingers.

Mia joined in; "I should have liked to take a fork and jab it into my ears. Atrocious company. All of them."

"Ah, yes, forks. I believe I had those fantasies around my fourteenth birthday when all mother could do was harp at me for eating with my fingers."

Snickering, Mia pulled out a small cardboard package, resting inside of it were four long ciggarettes. She took one out, placing it in her mouth. "Care to hand me that lamp?" She asked, her voice slightly muffled by the way her thin, pink lips were holding onto the ciggarette like a lifeline. They felt no need to be ladies when in each others company.

Araya complied before reaching down the fabric of Mia's dress to take the package into her own hands. She took a ciggarette out for herself and lit it via oil lamp, letting out a lung full of blue-gray smoke, watching it disperse into the air.

"Have you any fantasies of oil lamps?" Mia asked curiously, inhaling deeply.

Considering her question for a moment as she blew neat circles into the air. "There was one."

"Do tell."

Araya's hand stopped playing with Mia's hair and she was about to protest the loss of contact, but after stealing a glance at her companion, who had her eyes closed, her thick eyelashes touching the top of her cheek bones, she could tell she was in deep thought. "I am sitting in 's ballroom," she began in a dream like voice as she reminisced, "And people are all around me. They listen intently as my mother tells them about my home schooling -- all the while they are looking at me; it is as if they can see right threw me and are contradicting every blink of my eyes. I don't remember what ends the conversation, but I am sure because of the way Mother is looking at me, that I have done something wronge.

Soon the waltz begins, and I am asked to dance. I accept on account of bordom and he says something like 'I had my eye on you for quite some time' or something of the sort." She paused, her purple eyes flashing as she took a breath of harsh smoke, "I close my eyes, and when I open them again I'm standing in front of the oak doors with a pile of broken glass around my feet. Every ones looking, gasps of horror coming from every corner of the room. I have taken all of the lamps and thrown them, watching as the oil spread out around the only exit and then I take a candle.

My father realizes what I am about to do, and rushes forward. I smile at him as he yells my name. He only says it once, I assume it is because he is ashamed to have any association with me...I drop the candle, and flames over take the space and slowly begins eating at the oak frame and then the walls. I step out of the fire, the hem of my honey colourd dress in flames and I can no longer see the people screaming inside of the ballroom as they panic and look for a place to escape the roar of fire which has become a wall around me.

I shed my clothing apart from my garters which stay on my thighs and then watch as fire mauled people begin to flee the room, the smell of burnt hair and flesh fills my nose...I close my eyes to take a deep breath and then I open my eyes. I am standing still while my dance partner looks at me with concern. It feels as though an hour or two has past but I have only had my eyes closed for mere moments...I can still smell the burnt flesh."

"You look surprised, Love. Surely I have stopped amazing you by now," Araya snickered, throwing the end of her smoke onto the ground and stepping it out daintily with the toe of her shoe. She took Mia off guard by dipping her head and placing a chaste kiss upon her lips. Despite her awed and slightly shocked demeaner, she was quick to recompose herself for the kiss and kissed her back, tilting her head upwards for more contact as Araya pulled away. "Mia Nicholls, you are absolutely scandalous," she mused, standing to straiten her dress.

Mia laughed, also getting to her feet. "Why, Miss Valintine," she said, in a high pitch voice that was not her own, as she attempted to mimic a high class cow, "You must realise by now that I thrive off of scandal and shall perish if there is none; not only would if ruin droll conversation before they begin but it would also give us _Propper Ladies _nothing to amuse ourselves with." She curtsied low and then righted herself, flicking her still lit ciggarette somewhere on the floor. "Now; if you would do me the honor." She held her arm out and Araya took it, laughing despite herself.

"Lets get this over with," she said.

With a sigh of resination Mia and Araya walked back into the ballroom.

**~!~**

The night diligently trudged forward slowly and punctually, like England herself, arriving and leaving precisely when she meant to, and not a moment sooner.

Araya's insides were rubbed raw from civil conversation by the time the night came to an end. She stood by the door with her mother, watching with out a care as their last visitors left. was three hundred years old by now, with gray hair and a small, delicate frame. It Muggle years, she looks only to be in her eighties, but her eyes were ancient and always held a look of disaprovment in them. At the age of two hundred and eighty seven she and her husband decided they needed an heir to the manner, and, hoping for a ray of sunshine to dress in yellow and pink, had a daughter under magical pretenses, only to be cursed by Araya instead of a bundle of joy.

Even her parents, who were supposed to be loving and forgiving knew the moment Araya was old enough to act on impulse, that she was a very sick, twisted Witch. The first truly horrid thing The Valintine's knew their daughter to do, was kill the pets they gave her. At first they believed Araya when she said her bunny jumped off of her bed and landed on its neck, causing it to twist severely until it was nearly backwards. She had cried so much after she had lost that pet, that they decided to buy her an owl, which were easy to handle and relittively friendly, but the owl went missing. The cycle continued much the same, random animal disapearances, some dying of mysterious causes...they had only discoverd the truth about the animals when Araya's nanny followed her into the woods one evening with out the child's knowledge. Much to the Nanny's disgust, she found Araya sitting behind a large thicket of bush, accompanied by the smell of rotting flesh which came from the lifeless and mutilated animals that lay about beside her.

"I expect you to be in bed tomorrow morning," said to his daughter, suddenly appearing at her side.

Araya looked up, her eyes dull and full of misgivings as she took in the image of her father. He had salt and peppered colour hair and despite his age, he maneged to look younger with the help of a de-wrinkle glamour he had spent galleons on. Their years were catching up to them, and Araya couldn't wait until they were gone. "And where else did you suppose I would be, father?" She asked as she raised one careless eyebrow. _Did she know her captors were twisted and vile? _She asked herself internaly, a small story playing out in her mind. _She did and so she ran, lunging forward with the knife in her hands. She felt the flesh rip to make room for the steal invasion. The man fell, his gray hair turning white while the women by his side wept into the night. No more champagne for either of them...__they should have been long dead._

remained silent, giving his daughter 'the-look' which was meant to frighten her.

She tilted her head to the left, "Did you know it is a sin to cheat death?"

Her mother gasped. She knew?

"I beg your pardon, Young Lady," said steadily, not in the least cowed by his daughters apparent knowledge. It was illeagle to own a phillospher's stone.

"What are you talking about?" asked, his eyes portraiting fear. Oh Gods.

With the smallest of smiles Araya walked out of the grand ballroom, leaving a noticable chill where she once stood.


End file.
